Exiled CroniclesPartI
by NotAllWhoWanderAreLost
Summary: These first two chapters explain, first, the childhood of an elven lady, Lindethiel, and then her leaving Rivendell with the ambiguous Thalion. These cronicles span from a time just before the war of the Ring and into the time after it.


**Author's Note— **This is my first entry for Fan Fiction. These are just the first two chapters I have put together so far. Lindethiel is a character I've used and developed in a few RPG's before formalizing a story for her here. I know the writing gets a little wordy, but I've just come out of a writing block and I'm trying to regain the vocabulary skill I seem to have forgotten. Anyway, I hope you like it, please feel free to review. Be honest, I can handle a little constructive criticism. I mean it, my mom's an editor, I know how to handle being told a piece of writing stinks.

Thank You!

**CHAPTER 1—Fathers and Daughters**

Born in the place of a much desired son, Lindethiel's childhood was a troubled one. One of her older brothers died in battle the year she was born. The other was exiled for reasons she never understood, nor had anyone bothered to explain.

Her father held her in distain for being who she was; a girl, useless for she could never be the heir he dreamed of. No matter how well the blades hilt fit her hands, strong for a woman's, no matter how swiftly she could ride a horse no man could not tame, even though no arrow flew straighter than Lindethiel's, she could only serve him and her purpose by marrying a nobleman of their sheltered city and gift her family with strong sons.

Her mother thought she a heathen for she did not love the things her younger sister did. She loved the things her mother expected her to; dresses, parties, acting lady-like, knowing nothing of the wood or swords or battle as Lindethiel. Lindethiel could not please either parent. She knew her mother found pain in her eldest daughter because she look so very much like her dead son. Part of her mother was darkened by his death for Lindethiel still heard her on a rare night, in the courtyard or in the grave yard crying empty tears for the sons she could not get back.

Though in her earlier years she had mastered these prominently masculine talents in attempts to please her father, as if in return for being born his daughter, but as she later learned that the sight of her reminded him of all she was not. Yet she did not abandon her unorthodox skills she'd grown to love in place of the love of her family.

She was dangerously beautiful, like her mother, one of the valor, giving Lindethiel her dark, pensive glory and her proud solemn face. Her door would have been broken down regularly by noble suitors if it weren't for her other skill of avoiding her father's expectations of her to marry well. Many she had chased off and those she could not convince against pursuing her she had always kept at arms length.  
This carried on for some time. Her father would introduce her to a rich nobleman of Rivendell or some other elven city, usually at some party of banquet, far to elaborate for its own good, and she would find some way out of the danger of having to ever seeing him again.

She soon tired of her father's blindness. What was marriage without love? What was a father if he loathed a child for her being a girl? What was an army if it chose a weak man over a strong woman? The answer was nothing. Hate made everything nothing. And for this she would eventually leave. Her friend was cast in metal, slender, ever by her side or at hand, ever strong and unwavering. What better friend or husband than a sword?

**Chapter 2---The Worth of Purpose**

The sun's rays took a green tint, shining through the leaves of the forest. A wind blew trough the trees and birds took flight from a nearby tree. Lindethiel was hidden in a tree, unmoving and silent. She had learned the importance of quiet as a child. Arrows must be patient before they can be let strike. The leaves clinging to their branch do quiver at poise of an arrow to a bow, for the shot of such an archer had yet to miss its mark. Pulled tight and released, the bow string gave life to the arrow and deadliness to its metal head, which in turn took life from the bird its sender's eye had lain upon. Its grey body fell with a hollow thud on the ground. Lindethiel looked down the columns of trees. No one was in sight so she descended the tree. She pulled her arrow from the dead bird's breast and tied its feet to the twine two other bodies like it had already been fastened. It was cool in the shade of the trees, the rustling breeze swept through Lindethiel's auburn hair. Her glowing pale face watched for the rest of the hunting party. They did not know she was with them. All day she had either trailed behind the men or gone ahead of them, using the trees or cutting around them out of sight. She was not allowed to go out with the hunting party. Her father knew she would not be hurt, but he gave this reason anyway, simply to deny the fact that she could do all the hunters of Rivendell could.

At dusk she watched the hunters leave the wood. She remained in the tree from where she witnessed the world's slow turning long after The sun's rays no longer festered in the mist and vaporous air of the forest and the moon had risen to her enviously glowing thrown. Her eyes had loomed back to their melodic green as her mind relaxed, entrenched in memories of sunny mornings and warm light on her from the window in the bedroom of her childhood, when she was young and her troubles unborn. What a carelessly blithe place is a child's mind, yet if she could choose, Lindethiel would have been sorrowfully aware of these worldly misfortunes that obliviously happy in a blanket of unknowing.

Lindethiel leapt off the branch where she sat and began down the path back to the main city to go home. As she left the moonlight silluette she sang a song, her voice so pure and light it contrasted the dark cloak drawn over her shoulders and hiding her head and face.

_A Bereth thar Ennui Aeair!  
Calad ammen i reniar  
Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath.  
A Elbereth Gilthoniel  
I chin a thûl lín míriel..._

The song she heard a wood elf sing years ago when she had left the city. In the darkness she wished upon her people's star, _if I have no place here, why does this star yet shine for me? If I am without use or purpose to my family or people, why does this star yet shine on me? _She knew she was meant to leave, and yet she lingered on the aged hope that she may yet find acceptance and love in her father, she lived much of her life striving for his praise, and then another part of it resenting his distain of her.

She saw a light in the stables and heard footsteps against the old wooden floors. Who would be there at such a late hour? Lindethiel walked soundlessly to the stable, only a stripe of her face visible from the light sneaking through slightly ajarred door. She watched a dark haired elf there fixing a saddle to a bay horse in the wide hall. She guessed him a ranger for his clothes were worn and his otherwise young face appeared burdened with weights she saw in no one but those who took to the land to escape their own lives. She watched him for many minutes as he saddled the horse and made other preparations to leave. Lindethiel had never seen him before and was growing exceedingly curious as to who the odd stranger was. She had not seen the horse before either, so he must be from another part of Middle Earth and had ridden here sometime in the past two days, otherwise Lindethiel would have noticed the new horse.

"If you are not going to come in, may I ask why you are watching me?" He said, suddenly breaking the silence. He did not take his eyes off the horse's girth he was tightening when he said this. Lindethiel was surprised and for once in a very long time was at a loss to answer him.

"I have not seen you before, what business is yours in Rivendell?" She stammered, trying to recollect her confidence, as she pushed open the door and stepped into the warm stable. Her cloak was still draw over her head. He looked at her darkly cloaked figure for the first time and answered

"I was sent with a message and I have received an answer. I shall not be long in your city, do not worry of me staying." He studied her again, "What business is yours so long after dark wandering into stables?" he asked.

"This is my home, I go where I may." She answered, voice grown cold again.

"If you go where ever you may, why so carefully concealed do you walk about?" He asked, like a challenge.

"I go by my will, yet not with the consent of those who have led themselves to believe they dominate a will that is my own. I know the difference between what I can do and what I may do, the latter's limitations I have found unsatisfying. You know why I where a cloak, Ranger, I may not do what I know I can." She said, not without anger, yet with her own coolness and calm assertion.

"Never a lady sharper-tongued or more headstrong have I come across before you. You needed not hide here; I am no hinderer of you." He said, returning to readying his horse. She watched him, a hand beneath her cloak close to the hilt of her blade.

"I do not hide, I merely avoid capture." Lindethiel said, removing her hood. Her auburn hair was tied loosely behind her head as it shone in the light of the stable lanterns. Her proud eyes had settled on a color between green and blue. Her lips were graceful and dignified, visibly strong-willed yet feminine and composed. Her skin was illuminated with ethereal iridescence, nearly eerie in its beauty though its glow was serine and heavenly. She was a stunning woman, though her beauty was solemn in its glory, showing her half valor-half elf blood.

"Who would hinder an owner of such a face so greatly to cause her to conceal beauty greater than all the stars and moon and sun?" As all did, he spoke of her beauty, yet he seemed not awe-struck by her as all others before him had been.

"A father hopeful of a son would, one shameful to have such a heathenish daughter who shoots birds and holds her father's sword better than any other. If we are to be asking questions, where do you come from?"

He paused for a moment as if in thought.

"I come from here, or at least I did. I have lived in many places, yet closest to my heart is Gondor. I look all elven, but their people are half my own." He said, his eyes back on his work. Yes, Lindethiel could see it, he was only half elf.

"Elves are not your people as much as Men are?" She asked.

"In my blood they are my people. In my heart I see many of their faults they have yet to accept and revise." He said, looking at Lindethiel again, his eyes piecing and strong.

"Men have yet as many faults as elves." She argued. She felt far form her people, yet they were still her flesh and blood, immortally a part of her.

"Men fight when they see they are needed. Do you not know of the war? Rivendell denies it is their place when all of Middle Earth may fall at the treacherous feat of the Dark Lord." He said, his voice growing with passion. Lindethiel was shocked. She had been right. Many forces she had sensed and omens she had seen. She and even over heard a conversation of her father's, though it had been very cryptic.

"I have sensed it." She answered almost in a whisper. A war? And Rivendell was not sending aid. She had the man explain the predicament of Middle Earth. Never such a thing had she heard before.

"The darkness I have felt growing, I have dreamt of dark places and had visions of bloodied fields. My sister has seen it to, though I know she will not say a word of it." Lindethiel knew because she had seed within Nethelda's mind, as she had seen into others. She had yet the break the mental blocks of this stranger, though in her elven mind she was testing her skill on him, her skill she had yet to perfect.

"There is great danger. I came with word for Elrond and now I must return to fight with the Men of Gondor." He said. At last had she found a purpose? What she knew of battle was a mild skirmish with orcs and dueling with some of the men, including her brother, Athion,before his exile. She was skilled with a sword as well as with bow and arrow, though it seemed she would be tested sooner than not.

Her mind swirled, and she lost track of time and place. Her eyes were wide open, staring knives into the air. Before her she saw leagues of gruesome orcs, tar-like skin and snarling teeth begging to taste their opponent's flesh. Upon the great field with a stony horizon beyond a city of white, an army of men faced the dark forces. She heard their whispers and prayers; _For my land, my heart will stop, for my land I will die, for my land I will fight…;What clear sky I shall stare upon as I lay on my resting place. No greater death is one by sword for what is closest to heart. _They would all die and they knew it. She saw herself, face hidden by a helmet. Her own eyes were iced in blue, pensive and anticipating the battle. The image of herself she was seeing was not afraid or nervous, but ready, her expression what that of one who was doing a duty they were meant for.

"I must go with you." She said falling back to the real world as her vision disappeared. She saw him shake his head and start to say no, "I must, it is the will of the stars that guide all elves, I have seen it just now. It is my place to fight." The ranger studied her eyes again.

"A lady my not go to war." Was their no end to men believing she had no place in the world but to be a well mannered lady of nobles and watch the world turn from her neat, safe, narrow window of a soul? Her sword she unsheathed.

"Must I prove myself?" He smiled and halfway laughed at this before seeing her seriousness. He took out his sword as well and they went from the stable. The clearing in front of the door they both went to. Lindethiel stood with a ghostly calmness as the ranger took a swing at her. Before it fell on its mark her hands moved her blade to block his with insuperable speed. The sound of metal on metal surprised the man. She swung her sword at her side then pushed into his chest, the flat part of the blade against him. He hit the ground, shoved by an unexpected strength, and found her blade point at his neck. "I shall go to Gondor." She said definitively, sheathing her sword and letting him up. She walked back to the stable and got her horse from his stall. He was dark bay, broad faced with proud eyes like his master. His name was Rilien and he rode with no other but Lindethiel.

The ranger had no further objection to her joining the fight.

"Before we leave, I am Thalion. What may I call you?" He asked mounting his horse.

"Lindethiel is my name." She told him.

The sky was illuminated with stars, thickly sprinkled in the night. There were few lights in Rivendell at that hour to offset their bright shine. They glittered immaculately in Lindethiel's eyes as she watched then thoughtfully. She did not know when she would return. She said good bye to the trees and foot paths but not to her own family. She glanced once more at her city and then faded between the shadows of the wood.


End file.
